User blog comment:Biggren/The Northern March/@comment-3135907-20130328193022/@comment-3135907-20130514192654

Gratchin mutters mutinously under his breath until Blerig elbows him none-too-gently in the ribs. Gratchin is about to give an angry reply when he realizes the reason for Blerig's warning.

Captain Ripptail the female weasel strolls toward them, casually devouring an apple. The two wilt as she fixes them with a frigid glare. "Yarr, keep yer glims on the mount'ink, ya fool'eads, an' enuff quibblin'. Genarl Gryle's orders, an' don' yewse ferget it!"